


A Body of Unanswered Questions

by SassySnowperson (DramaticEntrance)



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016), Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: Angst, Except it is mostly not about the porn, F/M, It is mostly about Davits Draven having an existential crisis, POV Davits Draven, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-23
Updated: 2018-11-23
Packaged: 2019-08-28 08:01:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16719483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DramaticEntrance/pseuds/SassySnowperson
Summary: There are too many things that Davits Draven doesn't know.





	A Body of Unanswered Questions

**Author's Note:**

  * For [incognitajones](https://archiveofourown.org/users/incognitajones/gifts).



> A treat for the [Star Wars Rare Pairs Exchange 2018](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/swrarepairs2018).
> 
> This pairing grabbed me and I just had to write them, I had a lot of fun exploring the space between two very different people.

Draven is an expert at piecing together a story. Start, middle, ending, know one and you know the rest, if you're clever enough to piece it together. He's built a life on being exactly that clever. 

But for all that, he's not sure how he's ended up here. Mon Mothma, de facto leader of the Alliance to Restore the Republic, is straddling his lap. She's wet and lowering herself onto his cock; he's got his hands on her hips and her lips on his neck. 

They were fighting. They were planning. It's hard to tell the difference. Draven was angry. He was turned on. It's hard to know the difference. So many details escape him. Who reached for who? Who kissed first? Did he pull her in or did she push him down? 

These are the details that shape a story and Draven doesn't have them. 

~

Draven is an expert at knowing people. Get close enough, watch long enough, you can figure out what makes them tick. 

But he's as close as he can be and he still doesn't know her. How could someone watch the stinking bloat of the Republic peel back its skin to reveal dictatorship at its core and still believe? Still come up with an organization named the "Alliance to Restore the Republic"? Is that honestly what she believes they are doing here? Or is she savvier than she lets on, packaging the truth in pretty lies? There is no restoration. There is no unbreaking a glass. 

She seems too wise for such naivety, and too pure for such cynicism. 

These are the traits that define a person, and Draven can't unravel them. 

~

Draven has never been good at knowing himself. He knows his duty, certainly, knows his purpose and his plan; but these are the fences that keep out the unlit wildness. His desires have been banished into darkness. They move deep inside him, like creatures in the ocean's depths, largely unnoticed, occasionally terrifying. 

What desire is driving now? Is he trying to fuck the idealism out of her? Or is he desperate to believe—worshiping the closest thing to an avatar of righteousness he's found in his godless life? 

Draven doesn't know. That, at least, is familiar. 

~

Draven is an expert in the art of breaking people. He knows how to break her. 

He grabs her hips and thrusts up hard into her. She goes breathless, moaning, as human as he has ever seen her. This pure vision of white is mortal now, she has needs, and he is meeting them. She wants to be handled. She wants to be fucked. He gives it to her.

He thrusts until he feels the pressure build, feels himself coil and condense. If he were a more generous lover he would stop now, would see to his partner's pleasure. But that's not who he is and that's not what this is. He drives harder, faster, until he's coming inside her, collapsing back down into the chair with his hands still on her waist. 

This is how he breaks her, he shoves her off of him, he stands up and buckles his pants and exits the room. She is left, unsatisfied, used, knowing that her trust was misplaced. He would be right. Does he want to be right? 

Before he can decide, she grabs his hand from her waist and slides it under the white of her skirt. His palm is dragged along her thigh until she nestles his thumb on her clit and orders, "Circle." 

And he does. His thumb traces firm circles while her hips move impatiently against his hand. He shudders and gasps along with her, sensitive and overstimulated, growing soft but still sheathed inside her, held in place by the press of her against him. 

"Faster," she says, and he obeys, until she is clenching around him. She is sighing with ecstasy, and the broken sound escapes Draven's own mouth. She has had her pleasure and he is wrung out, he's used himself up for her. 

But that is how it is, how it always is going to be, she crafts her plan and he executes it. The blood falls on his hands, and she stays spotless. His body, his soul, they're the ones that get used up in service to her higher calling. 

Draven runs his palms along the white of her dress, is surprised when she leans against him, brushing her nose along his cheek. "Thank you," she says, "I needed that." 

Draven shivers. "Anytime," he manages to say. 

Draven knows how to break her, but he knows now he never will.

**Author's Note:**

> (What cracks me up about the whole thing is that Mothma's POV version of this story is probably just like, "Well it was probably a bad idea but he's a very nice lay.") 
> 
> Thanks for reading!


End file.
